


Possession

by sku7314977



Category: Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Demonic Possession, M/M, Wendigo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 06:12:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1182825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sku7314977/pseuds/sku7314977
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will goes to a crime scene and accidentally brings something home, a wendigo demon named Hannibal Lecter. Unknown to Will the beast had been summoned using his blood a number of years before and has been looking for him since.</p>
<p>Now that he's found him he's not letting him go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possession

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote for the alternative sex scene because it was something people wanted in Keeping An Omega, but it is NOTHING like that story. A part of the sex scene was inspired by a comment left by Mythos, thank you for the plot bunny~<3
> 
> I do not own Hannibal.
> 
> Not Beta Read.

“That cop, you want that one!” A large man, short in height but broad in the shoulders and carrying more muscle than Will could ever hope for was shouting, calling out into the large vacant house as he played hide and seek with the profiler.

Will had called for backup, the pod of police cars due to arrive any minute, he was on the tooth fairies heals, chasing him through the house in peruse of arrest and that made his call priority one to Jack, safety be damned the man probably had the cars running reds, anything if it meant getting the Tooth Fairy behind bars.

But he’d thought that the place was empty when he’d made the call, vacant with the exception of Dolarhyde and himself; but with the way the man was running from him, not fighting him, and calling out. Will was getting the feeling that the Tooth Fairy had lead him into this house on purpose, feeding him like bait to an even larger predator.

He checked each corner before moving around, following the angry steps of the larger male as he pounded down old wood hallways shouting to someone that Will was the one he was looking for; “The blood belonged to him!” The whole thing was unnerving, but what was worse Will didn’t know who this other individual was or where they were hiding. Dolarhyde was making too much noise for him to hear someone else in the house, like a killer that even the gruesome Tooth Fairy feared.

“Will Graham, it wath Will Graham!” His lisp caught on the _s_ , stretching the noise as he pounded up the stairs above him.

_The blood belonged to him!_ Something stirred in the pit of his mind, something Will forced back to focus on the dangers before him; he’d met Dolarhyde before, and it was something he was going to have to think about later.

Not wanting to lose him and not wanting to be ambushed Will checked his gun again before following up stairs, the old boards making quiet creeks beneath his feet as the shouting and running finally stopped with the sound of a door. He checked his rear before moving forward, not wanting to be ambushed by the other presence in the house, “Anytime now Jack,” he mumbled with a shaky breath, coming to the landing to face nine doors.

The house was a small mansion converted into an elderly home of some kind a while back and then maintained as a sort of living quarters for its sole occupant once the last of its patrons had finally died. Dolarhyde seemed to only make use of the most minimal of the houses vast living area, using only what he needed to be comfortable. At least that was what Will had observed during his short time in the home, picking up clues of its age, life and progression from the few rooms he’d raced through and now the doors he was kicking in.

“God-damn it Jack, where are you…” he breathed in frustration, taking a few shaky breaths before pivoting to bust in the next door, making a sweep with his gun as he examined the empty room, same as the rest; abandoned bed and dresser in one corner, night stand to another and like every other room in the house, there was no mirror. The man had a problem with his reflection.

Swallowing hard he moved to the fourth door, Will knew Francis now had an idea where he was, could be sitting behind any of these doors waiting with a knife or gun in hand to tear a hole into Will he would never recover from. Approaching the next door, his back flat to the wall forcing himself to take calm shaky breaths Will watched each possibility of his own death unfold behind his eyes as he pivoted and drove his foot into the lock, knocking the next door open, the wood crashing back against the wall even as he envisioned the bullet from Dolarhyde’s gun slamming into his chest, the cold blade of a knife pushing through the soft tissue of his belly to tear the life from him as he swept his firearm.

He hadn’t expected the screaming, the blood curdling sound of a man dying at the end of the hall. They weren’t alone and now his convict, or the one he’d been calling to, was being savaged.  Turning he ran for the door, coming up to let the wood meet the same fate as its predecessors it hit him first, flying clean off its hinges with the force of whatever lay on its other side; it knocked Will onto his black, sliding him down the hall with a solid wood door and Dolarhyde flat on top him.

“H-him…” Was the sound that gargled out above as Will fought to drag air into his lungs, the wind knocked out of him from impact; he needed to get out from under the weight, but Dolarhyde  was hard muscle and muscle was heavy; the door took up most of the hall on either side as well, if he wanted out Will would have to crawl out from the top of try to squeeze out from the side, and that would leave him vulnerable to  Dolarhyde.

He heard something walk into the hall, the padding of feet sounding very much like the clicking of hooves, making the hairs on his arms rise with each step; Will was sure that if air had been moving within his lungs he would be watching it form small clouds against the door. ”You wa-nt Will…Gra-” The voice choked off, as though he were being strangled.

Finally pulling the smallest amount of oxygen into his lungs Will twisted his head to try and see what was above them, what the sound had been and it made his blood run cold, his minute breath puffing out in front of his eyes as he stared at a pair of black stag hoofs, ebony fur meeting the nail a blend of black hair and feathers. The man above him was strangling, Will could hear him dying, but the feet of the beast he was watching stood still at the end of the hall. If that thing was killing Dolarhyde it was doing it from a distance of eight feet.

With a final shutter atop him and the smell of defecation Will had confirmation that Dolarhyde was dead.

That was when he saw the thing move, the hooves taking one slow step toward Will and the door, as though it were calculating its victory. “William Graham,” It bellowed, deep and low, “I have been looking for you,” it took a second step toward him, “For a very long time.”

The sound of sirens pulling into the driveway forced a pause to those steps, the beast growling before melting away into the air. Will hadn’t realized how hard his heart had been hammering until he finally heard Jack’s voice call from below.

“U-UP HERE!” Will shouted, struggling to crawl out from under the door, the dead weight doing nothing to help.

Several pairs of boots could be heard climbing the stairs, he had no doubt that each member of that group were coming with guns cocked, ready to take aim and at the first signs of unwanted movement.  “Jesus Christ Will,” Two sets of hands were under the door, lifting the heavy piece to let the young profiler pull himself back and out from under. “What the hell happened here?” Jack demanded, giving the man a once over before returning his attention to the door and Dolarhyde.

Holstering his gun Will turned his attention to face the dead man as well, his brow creasing as he examined the overly elongated finger rings around the man’s neck, puncture wounds showing on the lower sides, four on the left and one on the right. “I honestly have no fucking idea.” He choked on a laugh, short and bitter, because if Jack was seeing this too, then at least he hadn’t been hallucinating, though given what he’d seen, that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

_-_-_

Getting off with the excuse of shock and a promise for the world’s strangest report first thing in the morning, Will was dismissed for home. He needed to think about what he had seen and what Dolarhyde had said to him. There was no reasonable explanation for what had happened and he needed something better to write in his FBI report then ‘I was saved by the devil’ if he wanted to keep his job and stay off the antipsychotic medication.

The drive back to Wolf Trap seemed that much longer with the last of the adrenalin leaving his system, the soreness of muscles making themselves known; his body apparently unimpressed with the harsh treatment it had received that day.

It was going to be a whisky night, he knew before he stepped through the door that he would be ending the evening passed out on too much cheap alcohol and waking up to work with a hangover; it wasn’t his first time doing it, and so long as he kept hunting the monsters for Jack it wouldn’t be his last either. As he caught them and brought in a report making sense of whatever the fuck he found while on the case they didn’t really care if his eyes were read from lack of sleep or the self-induced raging migraine from dehydration and alcohol abuse.

Pulling up the long drive he’d never been so happy to see home. He opened the door to a horde of wagging tails, seven cold wet noses coming to sniff at him in welcome as he threw his bag on the couch and filled a number of bowls with kebbel. “It was a long day,” he began to tell his captive audience, watching furry bodies swarm the bowls and his legs in a mixed emotion of wanting pets and wanting supper. “I chased down the Tooth Fairy and went completely crazy all in one afternoon.” Because how the hell could he have seen what he’d seen?

Winston seemed the most interested, insisting on ear scratches over the crunchy food for the time being.  “If I keep this kind of thing up, I’m gonna have to start thinking about early retirement,” Because he would rather live on welfare than sit in a rubber room.

Getting a bottle of whisky from the freezer Will poured himself two fingers and shot them both back with a burn before pouring two more. He wanted to feel numb for a while, something to blunt the edge of fear long enough to let him to sleep, even if only for a few short hours.

Slowing as he poured his third glass Will narrowed his eyes as he looked out the windows; a man was standing on his lawn, watching the house as if studying it. To say that was odd would be like saying Jack was a fluffy bunny who liked to give warm hugs on cold mornings. It didn’t happen. People didn’t come out to Wolf Trap to look at the ‘pretty houses’ in the evening the way some families like to drive around and consider homes for sale and _no one_ came to Will’s house; period.

Leaving the glass on the counter and hiding his gun in the waist of his jeans Will went to the door and stepped out onto the deck, “Can I help you?”

It was a moment before the man answered, first turning his attention to him and then slowly raising a brow as realization seemed to come to him that he was being addressed. Offering the slightest of smiles he approached the detective, stopping just shy of the stairs. “I apologise,” He inclined his head slightly. “I am quite lost at the moment, my car broke down a few miles back and I am without my cell phone.”

“You were staring at my window.” Will accused, cutting the crap and getting to the point. He didn’t like people staring through his window, lost or not.

“You will have to excuse my paranoia, as I said, I am quite lost, I was unsure of whether to approach your home or not, for all I know you could be a serial killing enjoying his privacy in the isolation where no one could hear me scream should I disturb you.” His face was virtually unreadable, the man excellent at controlling and containing his emotion, “I apologise again for causing alarm.” The man was older, his hair etched with silver and laugh lines pulling at the corners of his eyes. He wore a suit, bold in color with thin lines creating a plaid pattern along its fine fabric.

Will snorted a laugh, giving the man another once over. “I work for the Federal Bureau of Investigation; you won’t be finding yourself strung up in my basement.” His tone was flat, no amusement given to the dark joke.

“What a relief.” The man at his stoop seemed to offer the barest of smile, the tiniest pull at the corner of his mouth, “I have found myself in the company of an officer of the law.” Even the smile seemed, placed though, rehearsed, “Would it be possible for me to use your phone?  I am a long way from Baltimore, I will need to call a cab and tow truck if I would like to get home.”

“You won’t get a cab out this way.” Will frowned, turning his back to lead the man inside, he looked over his shoulder when he noticed the man still wasn’t coming, he arched a brow in question at the oddity. “You’ll have to come inside if you wanna use the phone; I have a landline, corded.” He explained, not able to help the twinge of appreciation he felt towards the man for not assuming his welcome and coming in.

“Are you inviting me? I would hate to intrude.” The man asked, taking a step onto his deck, a gentleman right out of a Victorian romance novel.

“Yeah, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He wasn’t, he had a gun, seven dogs and nothing to steal, not unless the guy liked fishing lures and the shin of his shoes greatly disagreed with that.

Will pointed to the phone hung by his fridge and grabbed another glass from the cupboard, his ‘guest’ wouldn’t be leaving any time soon. Will just hopped he liked dogs.

The man in question entered the house on silent feet, moving with a practiced grace. “Thank you,” He said, walking around the group of unhappy hounds to the phone. Will had never seen his pack irate with anyone before, the two occasions someone had come to visit the dogs more than welcoming to company in favor of extra attention. “I have a dog of my own,” The man said smoothly, answering the unasked question as he looked at the group, “He is quite the Alpha and un-neutered, they may be scenting him on me.” Eyeing the phone for a moment before touching it almost curiously the man seemed pleased as he lifted the receiver and punched in some numbers.

Will almost felt amused as he watched the gentleman talk into the receiver to a towing company and then cab, the latter seeming to have left a sour taste in the his mouth as he hung up the phone, “They laughed at me,” He seemed more than a little put out at the reaction of the closest cabby’s to his request; his mood barely readable but for the minute down turn of his mouth.

Will handed him a tumbler of cheap whisky and fell into a chair at his table, bottle seated in the middle, the man followed, still displeased as he took one of the older wooden chairs for himself, though a line of amusement seemed to cross his eyes as he touched the wood grain, pulling it out and let his fingers dance along the feel of smooth glass, Will ignored it, assuming the man was comparing his cheaper lifestyle to one that was afforded in Baltimore. “I told you there wouldn’t be any cabs.” Will felt for him, he’d be stuck out in Wolf Trap for the night. “They’d lose as much money as they’d make coming out to get you.” He explained, taking a deep swallow from his glass. “Sorry, but you’re stuck for the night.” Whether that was sleeping in his car a few miles back or on Will’s couch was still to be decided.

“Hm,” He sipped his own drink, a slight tightness to his jaw the only indication that the whisky was as pleasurable to him as it was for Will. “Is there a hotel I could perhaps walk to?” He eyed his drink with thought before taking another swallow of its clear liquid, apparently having decided that his evening had been shitty enough to down the bad whisky. Will decided that the man couldn’t be too bad if he was refraining to ask if he could borrow his couch and poured him another glass.

“Nope,” He could hardly help the edge of amusement from entering his voice, misery did so enjoy company. “I’m sorry, but you really are stuck for the night.” He glanced to the clock, “The closest motel is about a forty minute drive from here, it’s not something you want to be walking.”

“Then I suppose that leave me stranded.” He considered the second drink before following Will’s lead and tipping it back, watching the officer fill both glasses with another finger of liquid. It was obvious that the agent had every intention of getting drunk that night and no surprise guest was going to stop him. “I apologise, I neglected to introduce myself; I am Dr. Hannibal Lecter.”

Somehow, that name was familiar, a second memory stirring in the depths of his mind; another one he planned to ignore.

“Will Graham,” They didn’t shake hands. “I’d offer you a ride back into town, but I was drinking before you got here.”

“And you have no intention of stopping.” He said with note.

“I am not an alcoholic, if that is what you’re implying.” He said into his drink, “Just a bad day at work.”

“A bad day? I suppose it would be breaching an oath of confidentiality to inquire, a member of the FBI must be well versed with a multitude of violence.” He was drinking slower than Will, but nether seemed to mind.

“I’m not a member of the FBI, I’m a teacher, they just rent me out to do profiling work on some of the more difficult cases,” Like tracking down the Tooth Fairy and Buffalo Bill. “Today was a different though, same thing as usual, catch the killer, except something beat me to him.” He tossed back the drink and considered just taking the bottle instead. He settled for half a glass and left a nearly empty bottle on the table.

“Something?” The doctor encouraged, “What do you mean?”

Will laughed, hollow and lifeless, “I can’t, you’d think I’m crazy.”

“I will not judge you.” He promised, that same barley there smile tugging at one corner of full lips, he knew it was probably the alcohol, but the man had a very lovely face, a very lovely mouth. “If you wish to speak about something less than normal, I can give you my word I will not tell a soul.”

Will considered him a moment before giving in to poor decision and taking another drink of the cheap booze. “Honestly, I think I saw a ghost.” He explained to his cup, not wanting to see the man’s face when he told him he was bat-shit crazy. “I was hunting down a convict screaming about me and my blood and how whoever else in the house wanted _me_ and then whatever it was in the house with us killed the killer.”

The man across from him tilted his head in a gesture of curiosity, “Do you believe in ghosts Mr. Graham?” He asked without judgment.

“Do I believe in ghosts?” he was beginning to feel as though he were sitting in a therapist’s office. “No,” He shook his head, “If there were such a thing wouldn’t we hear more about it? See them walking around the streets? There’s a lot more dead people then living ones.” He retorted, taking another swallow of whisky.

Lecter watched him, considering his comment before offering his own. “You believe you may have seen a ghost, and this convict you were chasing, you said he mentioned something about your blood, what could that be in regards to do you think?”

Will had let his mind wonder on that a little during the drive home, it had taken a little digging through memories he would have been more than happy to leave buried, but he’d found the name Francis Dolarhyde hidden inside. “When I was a kid my dad use to work on boats, I spent a lot of my childhood living on one, moving from ship yard to ship yard,”

“Always the new kid at school,” Lecter observed.

“Always,” Will confirmed, “I went to so many schools I think I attended more schools then there are grades.” And wasn’t that just a little sad? “It was at one of these schools I met Francis and one of his buddies, they’d been playing with an ouija board, told me they were talking to the Chesapeake Ripper, I called them crazy, we got in a fight, they broke my nose.” He pointed to the crooked bend in the bone. “The only blood they would have gotten from me would be the blood on their fists.”

“Surly they must have had to hide this; the teachers would not be very forgiving to broken noses.”

Will shook his head, taking another drink of his whisky, “No, I went home, neighbour was a nurse, she helped me set it and I never went back to that school after, my dad and I were leaving that night for another dock anyway.”

“So they had your blood,” Lecter seemed to consider this, “If they were talking to the Ripper, it is quite possible that they thought to try and summon him, some children do, dangerous games for dangerous fun. Perhaps they used your blood to entice him?”

“Are you mocking me?” Will asked, not hiding his detest.

“Not at all, I’m simply spinning theories.”

“And you’re well versed in ghost summoning?” He accused.

“I like to read,” He countered, “Many cultures believe that blood holds magic. If the pair were curious enough to try talking to the Ripper they may have thought it a good idea to try and bring him back, a ritual demanding a sacrifice of blood or a vessel be provided. Perhaps they offered up you as their toll.”

Will downed the last of his drink, “So what you’re saying is that they tried to bring back the _Chesapeake Ripper_ and used my blood to do it? That’s what I saw in the house?” Now he was the one sounding crazy, handsome and crazy. Looking at his glass he tried to remember what number he was on.

“You were asking why we couldn’t all see ghosts, perhaps you and Dolarhyde could see this ghost because you were both involved in the summoning.” He offered, finishing his own glass and emptying the last of the bottle between them.

“Alright, but the thing I saw had hooves, feathers and fur. I only got to see its feet.” And hear its voice.

“Perhaps he is a demon.” He shrugged, drinking his Whisky. “It is a mystery we will never know the answer to.”

Nodding Will downed his own glass, noting exactly how drunk he was when the memories of the beast began playing tricks on his mind, a streak of black seeming to tip the doctors nails into points before rounding back out a moment later.

He decided to change the subject, “So what do you do Doctor? Surgeon, dentist, general physician?” He was beginning to slur, having drank too much too quickly and with no food in him since a bagel that morning.

_That’s right food_ , he thought, “I should probably feed you.” Because he had a guest and wasn’t’ that an amusing thought? Him, Will Graham, with a house guest; no one was going to believe that.

“I am a psychiatrist.” Came the answer that was almost enough to kill his buzz, Lecter lifting his glass to finish the drink and pouring himself another when Will retrieved a second bottle from the freezer. “You seem unimpressed; do you have a dislike for the profession?”

“That’s one way of putting it.” He wasn’t going to elaborate and he made it clear by stumbling away from the table to examine his fridge for something other than cheap liquor. Looking inside he became suddenly aware of exactly how destitute for food he really was.  Feeling guiltier for the lack of substance then the rude behaviour he added, “They like to psychoanalyze me, I don’t like being psychoanalyzed, and people don’t like me when I’m psychoanalysed.”

“You are a profiler for the FBI, so you must understand that I can no more turn off my ability to analyse an individual than you; you see, you know. Like staring into a window you cannot help what they leave out in front of the glass if they cannot be bothered to close the curtains.”

Will turned to him, a box of craft dinner in one hand and a can of tuna in the other. “If you psychoanalyse me you’re sleeping on the deck,” He warned, grabbing a pot.

Lecter looked dubiously from the food in hand to the pot on the stove. “Are you inviting me to stay the night William?”

“Will,” He corrected, “William sounds like I’m about to be lectured in the principal’s office, too formal.” He turned his back to the Doctor missing the darkness that played in his eyes, “And yeah, I’ll get you some fresh sheets, you can take my bed,”

“I would be more than comfortable on the couch,” he offered.

Will turned to him, feeling more amused by this handsome man than he had in a long while. “You want to sleep in the living room with my dogs?” He indicated the pile of small circular beds that scattered the floor. Lecter didn’t make a face, but he didn’t jump at the idea either, Will returned to his cooking, “No it’s fine, I’ll sleep with my pack, you can take the bed.”

“You live alone Will,” An easy observation, “are you seeing anyone?” The doctor changed up, bringing another refill to the empath, sitting the glass by his hand on the counter while the other settled on his hip. It was enough to let him know Lecter hadn’t missed the looks Will had been giving him.

“No,” He answered, noticing the increase from two fingers to four, the man was encouraging his poor choice in soberness. “I’m detached, you?” he downed it all the same, finding his fingers were more than a little numb as he tried to work the can opener and loving the warmth that seeped through his clothing from the hand on his side.

“Yes,” He was watching him, studying him with those strange sangria eyes, capping the bottle and taking the can from Will as he fumbled to open it. “These preparations for me are unnecessary, I ate some time ago.” He placed the difficult can opener next to the sink, tugging the drunken profiler to face him. “But there is something else I would like to indulge in.”

Will grinned, eyeing his glass, “You wanted me drunk.”

“You were trying to get yourself drunk, I simply didn’t stop you.” He corrected, looping an arm around his waist to help his unsteady feet find their way upstairs.

Will followed, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had sex, and despite the odd circumstances of their meeting the idea of getting off with another human being and not just his hand was a little more enticing then the twisting in his gut telling him that people shouldn’t fuck strangers who show up in the middle of the night. Especially when there’s alcohol involved and mental instability. “Any STI’s I need to know about before we get started?” he asked directing them to his room once they reached the landing.

“I am clean.”

“Same,” Will stripped off his shirt, dropping it to the floor as he stumbled to the bed, losing articles of clothing as he went.

Closing the door behind them the doctor began removing his own attire, laying the expansive fabric over the back of a chair, eyes set on Will who leaned against the headboard enjoying the show as he did.

“Do you fuck everyone you meet?” Will asked, far too drunk to be thinking about what he was saying, the room was dark, neither men thinking to turn on the lights. Between the alcohol and his over active imagination Will was trying to figure out if his mind or the booze were playing tricks on him, letting him see fingers shift to claws as the doctor came to join him, crawling up the small mattress to cover Will’s body with his own.

“That was rude,” he said, taking Will’s half erect member in hand and making him hiss. “Accusing me of being whorish to justify your own easy surrender to temptation,” he licked a line from clavicle to ear, taking the lobe between teeth and tugging at the soft flesh.

“Sorry,” Will apologise; pushing the other man back to brush lips over his flaccid member, “But you know what I’m asking.” He sucked the flesh into his mouth feeling it swell with blood as it hardened between his lips.

Lecter groaned, carding his fingers through curls softer then they looked and holding himself back from bucking into the sweet mouth wrapped around him. “I find you very attractive and I noticed you eye me more than once this evening, but no, I do not sleep around. Now no more questions.” It was an order, because too much talk would ruin the mood and Will was already too drunk to be holding real conversation.

Will sucked at the hard length in his mouth, tasting the bitter drops of pre-cum that danced over his tongue, he slid it along the underside and over the head, flicking the slit to hear the man growl a moan; fingers tightened in his hair, tarring his head back from the fat erection and allowing the psychiatrist to delve into his mouth.

Lost in the bruising kiss Will let him separate his thighs, hands grabbing his slender hips to pull him into Lecter’s lap, taking his erection in hand and working it to make him squirm.

Will pulled back; dragging air into his starving lungs and raking his nails down marbling flesh. The skin beneath him was bleeding to black like veins of ivy; he watched it crawl over Lecter’s body as his hand milked an orgasm from him. “Y-your hands,” He gasped in climax, watching as fingers changed from the steady hands of a surgeon to the elongated talons of a demon; his spent streaking skin of polished onyx with strings of white before they fading back to tan.

“Hush,” he whispered, spreading hot cum around his digits before pushing them into his sex. “No more talking,” Will cried out at the sudden insertion, Hannibal capturing his mouth to devour the shout as he did, working the little lubricant into him, adding another finger as the enterance stretched and relaxed under his ministrations.

Even in his drunken state Will knew he was being controlling, extremely so for a man of mental health, but as aching pain turned to pulsing pleasure, Dr. Lecter finding his prostate, Will’s mind turned to jelly and he really couldn’t bring himself to care about much more.

“Hurry up,” He managed between gasps, nipping the older man’s lips to show his growing frustration. He was done with the fingering, he wanted something bigger and he wanted a second orgasm; it had been too long since the last time he’d had sex.

“Impatient,” Lecter observed, driving the fingers in deeper to hold them pressed against his inner pleasure, making his squirm and buck.

“You would be too after two years.” Will groaned, arching into Lecter.

“Perhaps,” He said in answer, working his fingers further, scissoring them and ignoring his pleas for more until he was sure that Will had been adequately stretched.

Reaching behind Will pulled the hand free, half lidded stormy eyes seeking lava as he raised to mount the other man, “Now,” He demanded, watching as nubs seemed to pushed beneath the skin of Lecter’s forehead, as though horns were threatening to tear through flesh.

Catching him by his slender hips so the swell of his head teased the heated sex of Will’s entrance, Lecter ceased his decent. “On your knees officer,” He purred, keeping his hold with little effort on squirming man.

Letting the doctor guide him to the bed Will twisted onto his hands and knees, allowing his rump to be lifted and back lowered as he was arranged. It was torture, having come so close to what he wanted and being forced to stop just as the head had pushed at his entrance, he was beginning to suspect Dr. Lecter of being a sadist.

Stilling him with a hand to his lower back Will felt the swollen head press against his heated sex again, the erection pushing him open as it was forced in, only half aided by the slick of his own semen. Despite the pain, Will moaned, feeling something inside him, someone inside him. It was a welcomed invasion compared to the kind that was usually forced on him; another human being wanting him, if only for his body, if only for the night, instead of calling him a freak and asking to write a paper on his mind. “Hannibal,” He moaned, leaning back into the thrusts that pushed with growing ease in and out of his body.

The man behind him made little noise as he worked his pleasure from Will, the pumping slowly picking up pace as the profilers body became more and more familiar with the intruding phallic.

Will didn’t know how, but Lecter seemed to have memorized where the point of his pleasure lied, the man hitting his mark with nearly every thrust, burying himself deep and pushing against it, forcing moan after moan from Will’s drunk lips, his fingers clawing numbly at sheets and blankets as he tried to match Lecter’s pace, pushing back to meet the thrusts.

Dropping to his elbows he braced himself against the bed, taking each powerful thrust with a rock of his body; he couldn’t keep up with the man behind him, with body too wrecked with pleasure to keep pace and it felt amazing, inhumanly good. He looked back over his shoulder, tired, drunk and wishing he knew a way to enjoy another whisky while taking it all from behind, if only to make the illusions go away.

The veins of ebony that marbled his skin moonlight and polished onyx were spreading like the endless threads of a spider web beneath his flesh, he watched them move, growing by the light of the night sky that shown through his window; the nubs of horns were pushing through flesh now, tearing the delicate skin over his skull to grow into two massive antlers that reached for the ceiling, their tips soaked in blood.

Jaw clenched, Lecter was getting close, readying to find his own orgasm as he reached around, taking Will’s ignored and throbbing member in hand to milk his second orgasm from him. “May I come inside you?” He asked with teeth that looked sharp enough to tear the flesh from bone.

“You want to,” Will panted the words between gasping moans despite the monster that pounded inside him, “cum inside me?” they had not used a condom, Will realized, understanding the implements of going bareback. Somehow the idea of being filled with a warm reminder deep inside him made it all the more exciting, making muscles clench heat poor from his member as a second orgasm rocket through him, “Yes!” he cried, trying to block the illusion and see the man, trying to force back the growing terror that ate his mind as the man changed more and more into a beast, to focus on the overwhelming pleasure that made his knees shake and his hands tear at old cotton sheets.

But he didn’t feel a liquid heat fill his bowels instead arms like iron rods encasing him, fingers like daggers sinking into his sides as the man pounded deeper still, a crown of bloody antlers coming down next to his face as warm breath touched his cheek, the skin around and in him turning to ice as polished ebony stone encased the man inside him. “Thank you,” a voice deep and low hissed, sinking his fingers in deep enough to pool blood as orgasm claimed him, filling Will with a searing fire, forcing a scream to tar from his throat as he felt his body being torn apart and put back together.

He could feel the cold skin pressed against his back seeping inside him, slipping him on like the jacket of a suit and sinking to his very core even as consciousness fled him.

_-_-_

He woke up screaming, filled with nightmares and pain; soaked in cold sweat and thighs sticky with semen he threw himself from bed and flew to the lights, flicking the switch as though it were a life vest and he were lost at sea, being overturned in the waves of a vengeful storm.

The room was empty save for himself, no signs of the Doctor having been there but the feel of cum running down his legs. Swallowing back a mix of fear and bile he grabbed his gun, keeping the weapon cocked and ready as he made soft footsteps though the rest of the house, confirming his solitude before locking all the doors and windows and emptying his stomach in the washroom.

Will splashed his face with chilled water, trying to cool his burning flesh and chase away the last of the monsters. “I need to find an outlet.” Will groaned, there was no way all of that could have been real, but a portion of it had to be, the ach in his lower body was proof enough of that; but the rest? He had to be hallucinating, something he was going to have to see a doctor about; He could only assume that Lecter had taken off after he started screaming, preferring to brave the coyote’s then sleep with the crazy.

Letting the water drip from his face Will stared into his mirror, he was tired, from more than just a lack of sleep; he needed a vacation, time away from Jack and the monsters that were haunting him.

Will tried to remember how to breath as he watched the mirror change, a slow smile cutting his face like a knife, the corners of his lips pulling ever so slightly in the barest of emotion as his eyes shaded to maroon, staring back at him from the mirror. A voice sounded all around him, echoing within his mind as the glass lips moved but his own remained still. “Good morning Will,” Came Dr. Lecter’s voice.

**Author's Note:**

> Your kudo’s shoot whisky with Hannibal, your comments slur poor pick-up lines and take the shrink to bed.


End file.
